


Love of Illusion

by dat_heichou



Series: jeanmarcoweek2016 [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, dancer marco, part of jeanmarcoweek2016, stage magician jean au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8310193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dat_heichou/pseuds/dat_heichou
Summary: Marco's always wanted to be a dancer.  But life has been difficult and right now he'll take what he can get.  Which is how he ends up agreeing to be a magician's assistant.
Day 1 of Jeanmarcoweek2016 Magic/Fairytale





	

For as long as he can remember, Marco has loved to dance.  As a child, he’d gather his family into the living room and perform for them, twirling and jumping to his favorite song.  He cried tears of joy when his mother signed him up for dance lessons on his seventh birthday and he cried just as hard when he was accepted into his dream school when he was 18.

So four years later, it's absolutely heartbreaking to find himself in an emergency room the night of his senior exhibition.  Though it was a day he was preparing for and looking forward to for months,  instead of happiness, the tears that brim in his eyes are from pain and disappointment.

“Looks like a ruptured achilles tendon,” the doctor says and Marco can hear Levi yelling even though Petra’s the one on the phone with him.  It doesn’t matter that Marco can’t quite make out the exact words he’s saying, because he already knows. “ _Bodt, I told you not to overwork yourself.  If you were in pain, you should have taken that as a sign to slow down, not push yourself harder until it snapped.”_

Though Marco’s leg hurts like hell, he can’t help but think the disappointment hurts a little more.

* * *

 

Taking coffee orders while wearing a cast is probably the most frustrating time of Marco’s life, especially when his friends are excitedly posting updates and pictures about their new career opportunities and what stage they’ll be dancing on in the coming months.  Marco tries his best to keep his bitterness to himself, so he ends up avoiding social media more and more.  It’s not like he has anything to share there anyway.

Once the cast comes off things are a little better.  The leg stretches help give Marco hope that this isn’t permanent, that he’ll eventually be able to dance again and he won’t have to wait tables forever.  But at the end of the day, he still can’t dance yet and he goes to sleep knowing he needs a whole lot of tip money to pay off his medical bills.

Marco can’t help but cry when his doctor gives him the okay to finally start dancing again.  It doesn’t matter that he has to take it slowly to get used to the strain on his ankle, it doesn’t matter that the doctor gives him a stern reminder to keep up with his stretches.  All that matters is he can _dance again._

When he gets home, he eagerly drags his roommate to the living room and he dances for her.  He’s stiff and out of practice, so he knows that he’s nowhere near as good as he had been before his injury.  It probably looks absolutely awful.  When he finishes, he looks up to see that Sasha is crying just as hard as he is.  But it's the most alive he’s felt in months.

* * *

 

It’s still fucking hard to get a job though.  He’s five months out of practice and out of shape.  He’s too busy paying off medical bills to scrounge up the money to join a dance studio, so he’ll probably be out of shape for quite a while.

He’s in their living room doing his daily stretches on the floor while Sasha lounges on the couch behind him.  The T.V. is on, showing a ballroom dance competition that Franz and Hannah will be competing in.  Now that dance is once again a possibility, Marco feels more comfortable about being updated on his friends’ careers.  He’s still jealous though, as he’s limited to exercising at the local park and their tiny apartment instead of the expensive studios his friends have access to.  

When he sees his friends gracefully sweep across the dance floor, Marco can’t help but sigh.  “I want to _dance_ , he whines, rolling out of his stretch to lay his cheek against the floor.  

“You’ll be able to soon, I just know it,” Sasha answers cheerfully, reaching out a hand to pat him consolingly on the back.  Her boyfriend, Connie, lingers behind the couch as he watches the two of them, appraising Marco where he lays on the floor.  

“Do you like magic shows?” he asks.

* * *

Honestly, Marco didn’t have high expectations for the job Connie told him about.  If anyone else suggested he become a magician’s assistant, he would have said no instantly because what could that possibly have to do with dance?  They just wear skimpy outfits and get sawed in half, right?  But over the past few months, Connie had quickly become a good friend of Marco’s and if he said it was worth looking into he probably had a good reason.

Though Marco’s hopes are still pretty low.

It doesn’t help when the interview takes place in some stranger’s basement.  The situation is starting to scream “sketchy” and Marco is extremely disappointed to hear that Connie can’t come accompany him.

At least the man he’s meeting isn’t too intimidating looking.  He’s shorter and much thinner than Marco, giving him the hope that in the worst case scenario, Marco can take advantage of his build to subdue him and get away.

The magician looks him up and down, before smiling smugly.  “Good, you’re hot.”

Well that’s not confidence inducing either.

“Excuse me?!” Marco splutters, giving the man an incredulous look.  

“Well it’s the assistant’s job to distract attention away from me, so it certainly helps if you’re attractive,” the magician smirks, wiggling his eyebrows unsettlingly.  

Marco bristles under his scrutiny.  “The only reason I’m here is because Connie said that I could put my dance experience to use.”

“Well go on then,” the magician leans back against the wall, gesturing at the open area of the basement.  He taps his foot against the padded floor as if trying to spur Marco to action.  “Can your dance skills steal the show from me?  Show me what you’re made of.”

As much as Marco doesn’t like the guy already, his basement space is the biggest place he’s been provided in months.  So he puts on a show, pulling out all of the stops he has, he lunges and jumps, rolls and stretches. His joints feel fluid, as if he’s less human and more water, melting and reshaping himself there in an absolute stranger’s basement.

And he feels sweet satisfaction as the magician’s jaw drops.

* * *

 

The magician, Jean Kirschtein as it turns out, is a decent enough boss, Marco supposes.  It’s sorta hard to tell because he’s usually off doing his own thing, fiddling with boxes, PVC pipe, and decks of cards.

The good thing is, Marco’s given a huge amount of creative freedom.  Jean just gives him a playlist and a timed schedule with marks on the floor, listing how much time he has in each particular part of the stage.  But it's frustrating, because how will they work together when they never _work together._ Marco doesn’t get it.    

Marco is practicing in the basement, which Jean apparently rents out for practice and storage purposes, stretching and extending his legs when he finally meets the owner of the house.

Jean is elsewhere working on new material, as usual.  

Heavy footsteps on the stairs make Marco falter and he looks up to see a large, muscular blond carrying a couple of bottles of water.  “Oh good, you’re the new assistant.”

Marco nods before approaching the man timidly, reaching out to shake his hand.  “Yeah, I’m Marco.”

“Erwin, I own the building.”  The blond appraises Marco with bright blue eyes.  They’re more intimidating than Jean’s had been, like they’re looking past his physical appearance to pick through his memories and ambitions.  “I was hoping to meet you.”  He passes Marco a bottle and he thanks him before taking a grateful drink from it.

“Um yeah.  It’s nice to meet you too.  Jean’s not here at the moment.”

“Yeah, I know.  He’s working on small routines for the school fundraiser.”

“Fundraiser?”  Marco asks.  Some assistant he’s turning out to be, he didn’t even know about it.

“He can’t do any of his big routines and it's more of a solo thing, so he probably didn’t tell you.” Erwin shakes his head as if in disappointment, “so I figured I’d offer you some tickets to go see it.  It’s a good idea to get to know him before he prepares for routines you can both do.”

Marco can’t argue there so he finds himself a few days later in a school auditorium, Connie and Sasha in tow.  While Marco and Sasha are curious, Connie is practically vibrating with excitement.

“You don’t understand, Marco,” Connie says, “Jean’s like… a perfectionist with these things.  He refuses to let me come see them unless he’s like 500% confident in his routine.  In fact, I haven’t seen one of his performances since his last routine with Mikasa.”

Before Marco can ask about Jean’s previous assistant, the lights go out and the audience’s attention focuses on the stage.  Erwin is standing at the microphone, waiting patiently for the auditorium to quiet.  

“Thank you for coming,” he says, his deep voice echoing slightly in the open space.  “I’m Principal Smith.  As many of you know, your ticket prices will donate to the school’s arts and drama department.”  He pauses for a moment before adding with a chuckle, “As well as the magician’s future performances, which get more and more impressive every visit.  He really shows that even us adults can always grow and improve, isn’t that right, Jean.”  The magician splutters where he is at the side of the stage and some parents laugh in the audience, as though this is a fairly common introduction.

“Now, how about some applause for Jean Kirschtein.”

For the past few weeks of their interactions, Marco had previously found himself questioning his boss’ capacity as an entertainer.  He just seemed too grouchy, too much of a loner, to really be able to fill up a stage.  But as Jean accepts the microphone from Erwin, it's almost as if he’s a different person.

Jean cracks jokes with the audience, asking for volunteers as he wows children with card trick after card trick.  He laughs and smiles and just seems to come alive before his eyes, and Marco begins to wonder if he’d written him off too quickly.

For his routine, Jean is demonstrating dividing and fractions using his own body and rectangular blades.  He’s already demonstrated what one-third looks like by dividing his left arm with two blades, pulling up on a box to separate his elbow from his hand and shoulder, wiggling his fingers the whole time.  

“So ⅓ plus ⅓ plus ⅓ equals?” He asks the audience as he lines the boxes back up and pulls out each metal sheet as he calls each number.  

“One!!” The audience cheers, as Jean laughs and pulls out his arm, fully intact once more.  “That’s right, he laughs, stretching out his arm in demonstration, “one whole.”  He pushes the cart with the blades he had just been using to the back of the stage and pulls another one out front, this one containing a much larger box.

“Now, have you guys ever wondered why you can’t divide a number by zero?”  

Across the audience there’s a sporadic answer of “yes” from multiple young voices and Connie, who’s greatly enjoying himself.

“Well the problem with dividing by zero is that you’re trying to divide something by nothing.”  Jean gestures with his arms as he talks, keeping the audience’s attention trained on his fingers as though they hold the answer.  “You can break something into one million pieces”--the children ooh and ahh at the thought of such a large number--”because that’s a real number.  You can’t break something into a nothing amount.”  Jean turns the cart, revealing that the box has a door on one side.

“Say you’re dividing me again,” Jean says conversationally, opening the box’s door.  “And this is the nothing you want to divide me into,” he gestures at the blank emptiness inside the box.  He climbs in, facing the audience.  “What do you think will happen?”  The audience offers some answers as he closes the door, blocking off their view of him.

A silence grows across the auditorium as Jean doesn’t reappear from the box.  After two minutes, the door  slowly creaks open and the audience gasps to find the box is empty, with no sign of Jean to be seen.

“It just doesn’t make sense, does it?”  The audience quickly cranes their necks to see Jean leaning nonchalantly against the auditorium door, as if he had been there the whole time.  Instead of the grey dress-shirt he was wearing for the rest of his routine, he’s wearing a large black t-shirt that has a red error message on the front.

Marco can’t help but cheer along with the rest of the audience as Jean bows for them, drinking up their praise.  Connie leans over to whisper in his ear, “Just think the stuff he can do with you helping him,” and Marco fails to bite back a smile.

* * *

 

After seeing Jean’s performance, things seem to click into place.  Since his solo routine is done, he has time to work with Marco for the big acts coming up; he’s scored a show at a local amusement park for the full month of October.

Jean’s still secretive, but only with his tricks.  “Once you know how it works, it's no fun anymore,” he warns, though Marco knows the magician probably enjoys his tricks more than his entire audience does.  Much to his surprise, Jean’s always the one climbing into boxes, not sawing his assistant in half.

“Well, just because the magic isn’t real,” Jean warns, “doesn’t mean the trick is exactly _safe._ So if there’s any risk, I want to do it.”  Marco feels a little awed over the man’s sense of responsibility.  Though it dwindles a little as he watches the magician cram himself into a tiny box half his size that Marco certainly couldn’t have fit in if he had tried.

Their practices last longer and longer as their first show approaches and the more time they spend together, the more Marco finds himself honestly enjoying Jean’s presence.  Just like in his performances, the more they’re together, the more alive Jean seems to come.  He jokes and teases, comfortable enough to laugh at himself.  He claps when Marco shows him the moves he has planned and he cheers when he does the particularly impressive ones.

They just go together really well, in a way that Marco had to struggle to find with his dance partners.

The night before their opening night, they pack up Jean’s truck with props and drive to the park.  It’s late and they really need to go home to rest for the big day, but they both linger to look at  the huge stage they’ll be performing on.  The last time Marco danced on something this big, it was his senior showcase when his tendon snapped.

“You nervous?” Jean asks, his voice soft and unsure in a way Marco’s never heard from him before.

“Are you?”

“Yep,” Jean laughs.  “I’m always afraid I’ll disappoint the audience.  That they’ll see through me.”

“You’re good at what you do though,” Marco smiles, “The magic might just be tricks, but I think you’re more honest about yourself on stage then when you’re anywhere else.”

Jean’s ears redden in the dim light and Marco kindly doesn’t comment on it.  “You’re more you when you dance,” he quietly remarks, causing Marco’s cheeks to color with a blush of his own.

After a moment he laughs, wrapping an arm around the shorter man’s shoulders.  “So which of us do you think will steal the show tomorrow?”

Jean leans into his side for a moment before blinding him with a smile.  “Both of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably continue this later during Jeanmarco week. I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> I'm also on tumblr at dat-heichou.tumblr.com


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